


who is in control

by woodpaintedflesh



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians - Rick Riordan
Genre: Dark Percy, Don't Kill Me, F/M, JUST, and SALLY, and also grover, and also percy/father bonding, and also theres some solangelo in here yes yes, bless her soul, but theres percabeth so don't worry about it, but yeah percy gets dark, i love grover, i missed grover, ok so it gets a little violent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:13:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,003
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/woodpaintedflesh/pseuds/woodpaintedflesh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post-Tartars, canonverse. The nightmares kept happening. Dark circles appeared under his and Annabeth's eyes and one night Annabeth woke up crying so hard she threw up. It was hard, but they went through their days acting like things were good and okay only because they had to. T for graphic violence and mild swearing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	who is in control

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! I have not written PJO in a super long time, so I apologize for any OOCness. My sister gave me this idea a few days ago, so this is all her fault, and it just so happens that she turned 19 a week or so ago, so this is her birthday present, yippee! 
> 
> Anyway, title from Control by Halsey because I am absolutely in love with her.
> 
> Also, it’s a bit, ah, graphic. There’s your warning. Enjoy!

_I’m bigger than my body_

* * *

 

 

The castle was made of dark stone. It loomed over the dead woods across the river of fire. Rain the color of blood pattered on the hard ground. Inside, every surface was cold to the touch. It felt sterile, empty, and dead. The echo of his heavy boots traveled through the halls. He ran his hand along the cold, crumbling wall. He took a sharp right, and stood in front of a heavy wooden door. He pushed his way in, and was blinded by sudden brightness. His eyes focused. He stood in a room surrounded by mirrors, thousands staggered atop the other, each with an image of himself. He walked forward and peered into his reflection. His face began to deteriorate, slowly falling apart. Blood oozed out of every crevice; his eyes, his nose, his ears, his mouth. The skin of his cheek slipped away, exposing damaged teeth held together by roofing nails. His eyes were sunken in, and what was left of his face began to blister. His throat closed up, and he clawed at his neck, desperate for air. His chest tightened and he wanted to scream.

 

His reflection spoke, a manic grin pulled at his lips, “You will never leave.”

 

Startled, he jerked back, and the mirrors shattered. Jagged pieces fell all around him, and the invisible hand around his throat fell away. He gagged and gasped for air and there was a sharp noise—

 

His whole body spasmed, his eyes flew open.

 

It was dark in Cabin Three. Grover stood above him, his trusty flute clutched in his grip, and Annabeth sat kneeled at his side, her hand carding through his hair.

 

“Percy,” Annabeth breathed, “I couldn’t wake you. I—I had to get help, and Grover—”

 

Percy glanced at his best friend who held his pipes tightly, as if wielding a weapon. He snorted, willing a nonchalant facade despite his fast beating heart. “What, did you sing me awake?”

 

Grover grinned sheepishly. He shrugged a shoulder. “I tried. But you were still having a fit, so I just blew my pipes really hard into your ear.” His smile faded. “But you should’ve woken up from that tune... I’ve never seen anyone not wake up from that tune.”

 

Percy closed his eyes briefly and inhaled deeply. “Some dream, then,” he murmured.

 

Grover and Annabeth exchanged a wary glance.

 

Percy sat up swiftly, ignoring the pounding in his head and offered Grover his fist, which he gracefully bumped. “Thanks, man,” he said softly. “I mean it,” he cleared his throat, “now get some sleep.”

Grover gave a mock salute and padded out of the cabin.

 

Annabeth sat on the bed next to him. She pushed his hair behind his ear. “You don’t have to lie,” she sighed. “You get nightmares, Percy. So do I,” she reminded him.

 

He pulled her down so she lay half on top of him. “I know,” he mumbled, adding, “and I wish you didn’t.”

 

She exhaled through her nose and dropped her head onto his chest. “Percy...”

 

He ran his hands through her hair. “It’s just—” he made a noise of frustration in the back of his throat. “We’re not supposed to have nightmares. We’re supposed to be role models, and we can’t really do that when we wake up screaming every night.” He huffed, “Everyone expects us to be okay, to get better.”

 

Her thumb moved back and forth across his chest, a soothing gesture. “And we are,” she said gently. “It’s a healing process. And I don’t think everyone expects us to get over everything overnight.” She thrummed her fingers against his chest. “Some people don’t expect us to get better at all.” She smiled up at him. “But we’re survivors, Perce. And we’ll get through this together.”

 

Percy flipped them over so he was above her. He placed his lips under her jaw. Her breath hitched, and he felt a real smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, together sounds good.”

 

We’ll get better, he promised himself.

 

But the nightmares kept happening. Dark circles appeared under his and Annabeth’s eyes and one night Annabeth woke up crying so hard she threw up. It was hard, but they went through their days acting like things were good and okay only because they had to. It was part of Annabeth’s healing process; if they pretended to be well, then one day they would be. One day.

* * *

_I’m colder than this home_

* * *

 

At the arena, he watched Annabeth as trained the new kids. She showed them how to wield a weapon correctly, which position to grip a knife for a fatal blow. The kids were young—younger than he was when he first arrived at Camp Half Blood, which made the whole training situation a bit morbid, but as Annabeth reminded him, it was essential for their survival and new life as demigods. He liked to watch the kids’ process and watch them as they gained new skills, but he mostly just liked to watch Annabeth be hot and kick ass.

 

Percy eyed Annabeth as she herded the kids out of the arena and towards the rock climbing wall. Mentally, he wished them all luck; they would need it. He didn’t notice someone was standing beside him until they sat down on the bench.

 

Eric, a kid from the Ares Cabin, grasped a spear in his hand. He greeted Percy with a smile, and nodded toward the pit of the arena. “Wanna duel?”

 

It probably wasn’t the best idea, what with Percy’s lack of sleep lately, but well. He pulled Riptide from his pocket, and grinned. “You’re going down.”  
  


As the two boys pulled on their armor, Percy glanced down at Eric’s weapon of choice, which sat on the ground a few feet from the kid’s feet. It was a spear unlike any Percy had seen before. The shaft was silver, with a bronze arrow head.

 

“Nice weapon,” he commented.

 

The corner of Eric’s mouth lifted. “Thanks. It was a gift.”

 

Percy tightened the straps of his chest piece. “Whenever you’re ready, man.”

 

In no time at all, Eric charged at him and he only had seconds to lift up Riptide in a parry. Their weapons clashed as they fought, all strikes and jabs and slices. Eric was a better fighter than Percy had initially thought, and he felt stupid for underestimating him. He rolled out of the way to avoid becoming a Percy-kabab.

 

They were a whirlwind of weapons, parrying and dodging and slashing, and they were both soaked with sweat, but Percy felt good. He felt better than he had in a long time.

 

Until he made a mistake and slipped, and then Eric held him in a headlock and suddenly Percy was back in the dark castle and blood fell from the sky and his face was falling off, blistering and the hand was clamped around his throat again and he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe—

 

A sharp pain pierced his side and then the spearhead was dug into his side—the only weak point in the armor—and Eric let go of him. Percy flopped to the ground helplessly, and he could breathe again, but he was also stabbed and the weapon was still inside of him.

 

Eric looked down at him, horrified. “Oh gods, I-I didn’t—I’m sorry, oh gods, I didn’t mean to—”

 

Percy gritted his teeth—he tasted blood in his mouth—and wrenched the spear out of his side and promptly collapsed. “Get Will,” he managed, and Eric all but scrambled out of the arena.

 

Then everything went dark.

* * *

 

_I’m meaner than my demons_

* * *

 

 

When Percy woke up, he was lying on his stomach in the infirmary. Other than a slight pain in his side, he felt... nothing. Anger that he had been taken down so easily. But mostly, he felt empty. A terrible heaviness sat on his chest like a stone.

 

Will stood above him with ambrosia and Percy greedily took it from him. He would have said thank you if he wasn’t so annoyed.

 

“Gods, that kid messed you up, didn’t he?” Will joked lightly.

 

Percy glared at him. “He stabbed me in the side. Shouldn’t he get some sort of penance for that?” His voice was hoarse from hours of sleep.

 

Will gave him a look. “Eric didn’t stab you in the side. He stabbed you in the back, Percy.”

 

Percy frowned. He could’ve sworn he’d been hit in his side—the only vulnerable part in his armor piece. “But—”

 

Will shrugged. “At least, that’s where the scar is. It’s big and ugly, so you can’t miss it.”

 

“And Eric’s being chewed out by Chiron right now,” Annabeth called from the door. Seeing his eyes open brought her great comfort and she moved through the infirmary to his side. She placed a glass of water on the table near him.

 

“Hey, Beth,” Will greeted cheerily. It made Percy more annoyed. “I’m gonna step out for a bit. You got this?”

 

She nodded. “Thanks, Will,” and he headed out.

 

Percy groaned into his pillow. “I have the worse luck, huh?”

 

Annabeth pulled a chair up and grabbed his hand. She was always touching him, ever since Tartarus. It was almost instinct, as if she needed to reassure herself that he was still there. “Probably, yeah. But that was the best sleep you’ve had in a while.”

 

Percy rolled his eyes. “How do you know that?”

 

She smirked. “You drooled in your sleep.” She wiped the corner of his mouth. “I know you haven’t been doing that lately.”

 

He shifted away from her and she frowned. He wouldn’t admit it was the best sleep he’d had in weeks, especially because it took him getting stabbed with a spear to achieve it. “I’m sleeping fine,” he all but snarled.

 

Annabeth stood from her chair stiffly. “Okay, Mr. Grouchy Pants. When you’re not acting like a total baby, come find me.”

 

He watched as she left, but did not call out her name or apologize. He felt nothing.

* * *

_I’m bigger than these bones_

* * *

 

 

Percy’s moods worsened. The terror in his nightmares heightened, to the point where he refused sleep, and Annabeth stopped coming to his cabin late in the night to calm him down. And from what he’d seen of her, she wasn’t doing too well either. When he wasn’t too tired and weak, he spent his days at the beach in an attempt to gain strength from the sea. Those were the only days he felt alive.

 

Nico came to visit on one of those days.

 

Hades’ son plopped down onto the sand next to him, Mrs. O’Leary hot on his heels. She squeezed her giant head in between the two boys. In the corner of his eye, Percy saw Will sneak off back to camp.

 

Percy grabbed a handful of sand and let it slip between his fingers. “Hate to be the one to tell you this, but your boyfriend’s been stalking me.”

 

Nico flushed. “He’s not as involved in your recovery as he’d like to be,” he admitted.

 

Percy snorted, and placed his hand on Mrs. O’Leary’s head. “Yeah, I bet.”

 

Nico stared out at the water. “How’ve you been?”

 

Percy shrugged. “Okay.” It wasn’t a complete lie. Some days were better than most. And in those “most” days, he’d think to himself, What is wrong with me? and a scornful voice would hiss back, You know the answer to that. But he kept that to himself. He glanced at Nico. “You?”

 

The corner of his lip tipped up as he shrugged. “Okay.” He sobered up quickly. “But seriously. You’re looking a lot like me these days.”

 

Percy pushed down an unexpected surge of anger and smiled ruefully. “A little, yeah.”

 

Nico cleared his throat. “Can I see the scar?”

 

Percy raised an eyebrow.

 

Nico shifted where he sat, clearly uncomfortable. “I just meant—Will said it was bad and... unusual.”

 

Now Percy smirked. “If you wanted to see me shirtless, all you had to do was ask.”

 

Nico flushed bright red again, but Percy obliged and lifted the hem of his shirt to expose the large mark on his back. It was the color of a pink rose.

 

He winced. “Does it still hurt at all?”

 

“All the time,” Percy replied bitterly.

 

“That’s not normal,” Nico stated.

 

“No,” Percy agreed, “but neither was the weapon that did it.” He laughed humorlessly, scratching Mrs. O’Leary between her eyes. “Maybe it was poisoned and I’m dying slowly.”

 

Nico narrowed his eyes. “And you’re sure the kid stabbed you on accident?”

 

He waved the unsaid accusation away. “Yeah. We both got a little carried away. Turns out I tore a muscle in his shoulder, so we both got prizes out of the spar.”

 

Nico opened his mouth to say something, but Will called his name in the distance. Nico stood and brushed himself off, looking embarrassed. “Just—apologize to Annabeth, alright? Being apart for the past few nights hasn’t helped either of you.” He whistled at the giant dog and she lumbered up after him.

 

Percy glared at his retreating form and kicked at the sand.

 

He found Annabeth in her cabin on her usual bottom bunk. It was a mess, just like how she always left his place—a disarray of sketches and blueprints. After losing Daedalus’s laptop, she’d set out to recreate the blueprints she did remember herself. And apparently, while he was busy losing his mind the past few days, she herself was busy drawing.

 

She looked up at him when he walked in. Thankfully, no one else was around. “Took you a bit longer to get over yourself.”

 

He clenched his jaw and bit back a snide remark. “I’m sorry, Annabeth,” he said honestly. “I don’t know why—I’ve just... I’ve been angrier than usual the past few days.”

 

Her face softened a fraction. “Must be your damaged ego.” She cleared a spot on her bed and gestured for him to sit. “You look terrible,” she commented.

 

Percy touched the tips of his fingers to her face—the first contact he’d had with her in days. She flattened his hand against her cheek and leaned into his palm, and automatically he felt better than he had in a while. “It hasn’t been easy without you.”

 

She grinned sweetly. “Well, you remember what I promised you last year, don’t you?”

 

He rolled his eyes and felt a smile tugging at his lips. “How could I forget?”

 

Annabeth scooted towards him and laid her head on his shoulder. He placed his lips to the spot behind her ear, where he knew she liked. “Am I forgiven for being a total asshole?”

 

“Maybe,” she gasped, tilting her head to give him more access.

 

He grinned and tugged at her earlobe. “Now?”

 

The suddenness of her lips on his left him momentarily stunned before he recovered, returning her kiss feverishly. He didn’t think of the coldness and the numbness that was in his chest and constantly clouding his mind. He pushed past them, and he could almost pretend that everything was normal. He tugged her into his lap and gripped her waist. He couldn’t help the groan that escaped him when her fingers found their way under the hem of his shirt and trailed across his overheated skin.

 

Annabeth closed her eyes and tipped her head back as Percy trailed kisses down her throat. He was so forgiven. She clutched his shoulders as he nipped her collarbone. She pulled him back up to her mouth and his hand moved up under her shirt and rested on her bare hip. She dropped her head to his shoulder, overwhelmed by his touch.

 

He pulled back and lazily opened his eyes. Suddenly Annabeth’s eyes sunk into her face, blood claw marks decorated her cheeks, dripping down onto her tattered dress. She was terribly skinny and boney, as if she hadn’t eaten in centuries.

 

Akhlys.

 

A slow smile spread across her lips. “Remember me?” She hissed. “You will never escape.”

 

Percy jerked back and shoved Akhlys off him. He moved to his feet and backed away. “You can’t be here,” he willed his voice to stay steady. “How are you here?”

 

She didn’t answer him. Instead, she reached for him, her long nails inches from his face.

 

“No!” He roared. He fumbled for his pen, but she quickly swiped it out of his hands.

 

“Oh, enough,” she cooed. “You can never win.”

 

He shoved her away, desperate. “Percy,” A familiar voice muddled in with Akhlys’ urgent one. “Stop! What is—”

 

Percy kicked her feet out from under her, and she landed flat on her back and Annabeth saw stars. She didn’t understand what was happening. She rolled away before Percy could do more damage. She got in his face quicker than lightning. She grabbed a fistful of his shirt and slammed him into the wall.

 

She tried to talk some sense in him. “Percy, snap out of it!” But he was on autopilot, his eyes unfocused and dilated. He twisted them so she was the one against the wall. If this was a different situation, some sick part of Annabeth’s mind thought, this position would be awesome, but.

 

Percy’s fingers curled around her throat and black spots danced in her vision. She managed to gather the strength to knee him in the stomach, and with a groan, he released her.

 

Annabeth ignored the ache in her body, and jumped onto Percy’s back, pinning his arms to his sides. “Percy, it’s me, Annabeth,” her voice hoarse from being choked. He thrashed underneath her like a wild animal.

 

He remembered the poison, the agony he’d experienced in Tartarus. He concentrated on the coldness sitting inside him, and it hardened in his chest and crawled its way up to his head. He threw her off his back. Before Akhlys could reach him again, Percy imagined water piling up in her throat.

 

Akhlys jerked to a stop in front of him. She clawed at her throat. “What—?”

 

Percy felt the blood running through her veins. He flicked his wrist and Akhlys’ body went flying across the cabin. He controlled her, feeling every fluid in her body and then she was his puppet.

 

She struggled against his power, but she was too weak. He threw her around like a ragdoll.

 

“Percy,” she screeched, “stop!” She lay in the corner of the room, helpless.

 

He shook his head. He whipped around, snatched his pen from the ground and uncapped it. He whirled around to face Akhlys, to finish it once and for all but.

 

But Akhlys had disappeared. Where she used to sit, limp and lifeless, was Annabeth. Blood trailed down her face and out of her nose. Bruises colored her neck. She clutched her ribs and winced. She stared at him like he was a whole different person, and suddenly he understood.

 

Oh gods, he understood. He understood what had happened.

 

Riptide slipped out of his grasp as he fell to his knees. He crawled his way over to her. His eyes burned but the tears never fell.

 

“Oh gods,” Percy croaked. “What did I do? What did I almost do?”

 

Annabeth took shuddering breaths. “Get away from me,” she hissed.

 

He shook his head sadly, and reached for her, but she flinched away from him. It was equivalent to a punch in the gut. “It wasn’t you.”

 

She tried to back away, but was cornered. “I said get away from me.”

 

“Annabeth,” his voice broke. “I-I don’t know what that was. Akhlys was here—and my first instinct—”

 

A flicker of emotions flashed in her eyes, but they were gone before he could decipher them. She clenched her jaw. “You went too far, Percy,” she growled. “I couldn’t even defend myself. I felt you control me.” Her eyes watered. “I don’t know if I can trust you anymore.”

 

The coldness in his chest cracked, just slightly. But enough for him to feel his heart break. He nodded, trying to swallow the lump in his throat. “At least let me help you to the infirmary.”

 

Annabeth didn’t speak to him once she was settled. She wouldn’t let him stay with him, and her cold stare would be burned in the back of his head for the rest of his life.

* * *

_And all the kids cried out_

_please stop you’re scaring me_

* * *

 

 

Chiron called for him and Percy sat in his office, staring at his hands. They shook terribly.

 

“Percy,” Chiron called. “I need to know what happened.”

 

Percy shook his head, his voice was hollow. “It wasn’t her. It wasn’t her.” Chiron waited for Percy to collect his thoughts. “I was with Annabeth. And—and I looked away for a second, and then it was Akhlys.”

 

Chiron’s brows furrowed. “Akhlys? What does she have to do with any of this?”

 

Percy looked sick. “We... we encountered her in Tartarus.” He swallowed. “I... learned how to control the flow of poisons inside of Akhlys. I forced her to choke on her own tears.”

 

Chiron gripped the table. “Percy,” he said lowly, “please don’t tell me you forced this on Annabeth.”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut. “It was worse. I took hold of her blood,” he choked out.

 

Chiron sucked in a breath. “I see.” He sat back and exhaled slowly. “I suggest you take a few days off from camp.”

 

Percy nodded. “I’ll quit sparring for a while, and the rock wall too—”

 

“No, Percy,” Chiron interrupted. “I meant go home. Take a few days and go home Percy. You need it. And I’m sure Annabeth will need some space.” His voice was soothing, but it did nothing to comfort Percy.

 

But he agreed with Chiron. Maybe a few days off will help. He went back to Cabin Three and packed his clothes for three days.

 

Annabeth didn’t come to see him off, and he felt more broken than he ever had before.

* * *

 

_I can’t help this awful energy_

* * *

 

 

Percy pulled out the key to his mom’s apartment and twisted it into the lock. When he opened the door, his mother stood in the kitchen sipping her coffee and reading a book.

 

Sally perked up a bit when she saw him standing there. She rushed over to him. “Oh hi, baby, what are you doing home?” She fretted over him, patting him down and making sure there were no cuts and bruises. This wasn’t the first time he’s come to see her since everything had happened. In fact, it was about the fiftieth time, but Sally still worried over him ever since he was taken from her.

 

He was happy to see her, but. There was still that part of him that felt immensely dead. Gone.

 

He tried for a smile. “Mom, I’m fine.”

 

She worried her lip. “Did something happen at camp?”

 

He cast his eyes downward and clenched his jaw. Anger surged through him. “Yeah, I... the nightmares are getting worse. Chiron suggested I spend a few days here to... cool off.”

 

She heard the disdain in his voice. She moved to touch his face, but he jerked away. Her brows furrowed. “What happened?” She asked softly.

 

His eyes burned. “I... I don’t know what’s happening to me. I-I hurt Annabeth—badly.”

 

He looked into the bathroom mirror, hoping to find the hero he was a few months ago, not someone who needed help. But a stranger with dark eyes looked back at him. His newest enemy. Numbness spread throughout his entire being, leaving behind the worst of emotions: anger, and pain, fear, and anxiety. All four of them churned in the pit of his stomach and weren’t going away. They were crawling up his chest, and laid there like an anchor.

 

And then he thought about Annabeth. What he’d done to her. What he’d almost done to her.

 

He burst out of the bathroom in a panic. Sally started at the loud bang of the door.

 

“Percy!” She held a hand to her chest. “What’s wrong?”

 

His jaw feathered as he attempted to swallow the lump in his throat. “I’m dangerous, Mom.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I shouldn’t be here—with you a-and with Paul. I could hurt one of you.”

 

“Oh baby,” his mother soothed. “You could never hurt us,” she reached out to touch him but he flinched away and for the first time, Sally could see true fear in her son’s eyes.

 

Percy shook his head. “I can’t—” his voice broke. “I already hurt one person I love terribly. I couldn’t stand it if I did it again.”

 

Sally’s chin trembled. “At least stay the night.” She would do anything for him not to feel the way he does.

 

The look in his eyes told her he wouldn’t dare risk staying another second. She nodded somberly. She watched in silence as he grabbed his unpacked bag from his bedroom. She crossed her arms over her chest. “Where are you going to stay?”

 

He gave her a rueful smile. “I think it’s time to visit Dad.”

 

She nodded again and returned the smile. “Tell him I said hello.”

 

He wrapped her up in a big hug. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I’m going to find a way to get better.”

 

Sally sniffed and cupped the back of his head. “Promise you’ll come back soon.”

 

He squeezed her tighter. If you’re not dead by then, that nasty voice whispered. “You bet,” he told her.

* * *

_Goddamn right, you should be scared of me_

* * *

 

 

What he didn’t tell her was the reason he’d chosen to go back to Poseidon’s place was because he knew he couldn’t hurt anyone down there. And he couldn’t kill a god.

 

The first and last time he’d visited was after Beckendorf died, and although the memory should have brought Percy pain, the numbness was back and he felt nothing. To say he was disappointed was an understatement; Percy hoped the water would be able to melt the iceberg inside of him.

 

The palace was as big as Percy remembered. It was adorned with gardens and courtyards and giant columns. The roofs were made of coral, pearls lined along every pathway, and underwater wildlife darted in and out of windows. A court of merpeople danced around and laughed.  

 

Poseidon was not nearly as hard to find as Percy thought he would be. In fact, he found Percy first.

 

His father stopped in his tracks at the sight of him. “Percy,” he frowned, “what brings you here?”

 

Percy went right down to business. “There’s something wrong with me,” he said bluntly.

 

His father stared at him. And much to Percy’s surprise, Poseidon nodded. “There’s something...” he narrowed his eyes, “...inside you.”

 

Percy gaped. “What?”

 

The god grasped his arm. “He marked you, didn’t he?”

 

“Marked? Who—what—”

 

Poseidon dragged Percy down the hall and into an empty pavilion on the other side of the palace, away from his guests.

 

Poseidon paced around the room, his heavy footfalls echoing throughout the vast room.

 

Percy’s back ached—right where his newest scar was. “Dad, will you please explain to me what is—”

 

Poseidon raised his hand to silence him. He grabbed Percy’s shoulders and examined him. “Where did Ares mark you?”

 

“Ares?” He blanched. “I haven’t seen Ares since... since all that shit with Kronos went down. The closest encounter I’ve had with that guy has been through one of his demigod sons at camp—Eric.” He rubbed his back absentmindedly. “We were sparring.”

 

Poseidon paused, only for a second. “Did you get hurt?”

 

Percy’s eye twitched. “Yeah.”

 

“Where?” Poseidon all but growled. “Show me.”

 

Slightly uncomfortable, Percy lifted the back of his shirt. Poseidon yanked it up higher. He cursed rather colorfully. “Dad—?”

 

“There it is,” he palmed the scar on Percy’s back. He cursed again. “Phobos, Deimos!” Poseidon yelled something in Latin and Percy easily translated it to “I order you to leave this body!”

 

Percy wanted to say What the fuck Dad but instead he doubled over as pain blossomed in his back, in his entire being. He stumbled away from Poseidon and fell to his knees. He felt the scar move and ripple against his shirt and expand. The scar slithered around to Percy’s front and his insides ached like the thing was carving its way through his organs. It crawled its way up his chest and through his throat. Percy gagged and struggled for breath.

 

Poseidon stood there watching his son, wishing there was something else he could do.

 

Tears clogged Percy’s vision, but he managed to sit back on his heels and throw his head back—just as whatever it was poured out of his mouth. It was in the form of white smoke and it drifted through the water sluggishly. The coldness in his chest burst into a million pieces and the terrible heaviness lifted and for the first time in a long time, Percy could feel and the tears slipped down his cheeks and he was no longer numb.

 

When Percy finally looked up, two more gods stood in the room, facing Poseidon.

 

Poseidon was red in the face, anger palpable in his eyes. “Why?” Was all he asked.

 

One of the gods shrugged. “Just a little fun,” was his reply, and his twin twisted at the waist to look at Percy and grinned evilly.

 

That voice... Percy knew it. They were those nasty voices in the back of his mind, taunting him for the last week.

 

Poseidon barked at them and they shrunk away. The god dismissed them and when Percy looked up again, they were gone. Poseidon strode toward him. “Gods of panic and fear, terror and dread. They dominated you and fed off your emotions. They amplify any emotion that benefits them—like anger and rage—and basically eat every other emotion.”

 

“Why,” Percy’s voice shook.

 

Poseidon’s jaw clenched. “I’m going to find that out when I next see Ares.”

 

Percy stared at the floor. And suddenly it was like a dam* broke inside him. The floor beneath him cracked and splintered. The walls shuddered as Percy threw his head back and screamed his throat raw.

Poseidon grasped Percy’s arm and threw him out of the crumbling room. Chunks of the roof fell and shattered all around him. His chest expanded, and then he felt. He felt the things he should have felt before he’d gotten injured. He felt grief and pain and guilt. Happiness and love. Misery for what he’d done to Annabeth. The room shook as the water around him convulsed at the power of his emotions.

 

His father grasped his arm and threw him out of the room before they were both trapped in the ruins.

 

“Do you want to get killed?” Poseidon growled.

 

Percy’s chest heaved as he struggled to control his breathing. “Why did you stay?” He heaved.

 

“You needed to get that out of your system, I knew that,” Poseidon paused. “but I also knew you would let yourself get killed in there. I couldn’t allow that.”

 

Percy hauled himself against the wall and laughed humorlessly. “You don’t know what I did.”

 

His father slid down next to him. “Whatever it was, it’s not enough to let my son kill himself.”

 

Percy stared at the floor in front of him. “I hurt Annabeth,” he said quietly. “I almost killed her.”

 

He was silent for a moment. “I’m sure if you tell her you were possessed by two evil gods, she’ll understand.”

 

“Weirder things have happened,” Percy agreed. The corner of his mouth tipped up. It was a small smile, but it was enough.

 

“Okay,” Poseidon said, kissing his son’s head. “I’ll inform Chiron of what has happened.” He stood up and hauled Percy up with him. “You should go.”

 

Percy inhaled deeply and nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I should—go. Sorry. About the,” he nodded to the wreckage, “room.”

 

Poseidon ruffled his hair. “It’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

 

Percy nodded again, and turned to leave. Poseidon called after him, “Hey, Perce.” Percy looked at him from over his shoulder. “The hero always gets the girl, right?”

 

He grinned. “Yeah, let’s hope.”

 

Who is in control?

 

He rested his arms on his knees as he sat on the beach along Long Island Sound. In the distance, he could faintly hear kids eating at the Mess Hall, but he wasn’t focused on them. He watched the clouds rolling over the sea, lightning streaking in the sky but never touching down. The gods were summoned to Olympus after the news of Phobos and Deimos got out, how they’d been feeding off of Percy for days, and they’ve all been up there for hours. As it turned out, Ares didn’t send Phobos and Deimos to torment Percy; they were working with Gaia, and as retaliation of her defeat, targeted Percy.

 

He’d been too chicken to go look for her, but of course, Annabeth found him first. She plopped down on the sand next to him. She didn’t look at him, but at the lightning storm over the sea. He got a good look at her. She looked better than she had when he carried her to the infirmary. She adorned no cuts or bruises, and Percy was grateful for that. Bile rose up in his throat just thinking about the bruises on her neck. Her stormy grey eyes were as strong and calculating as ever, but he could still see bags from lack of sleep under them.

She inhaled deeply. “Shit, Percy.”

 

“I know,” he said hoarsely. “Phobos and Deimos. Who’d’ve thought.”

 

She nodded. “I was there when your dad contacted Chiron,” she paused. “I’m glad you’re okay,” she said honestly.

 

He clenched his jaw and looked anywhere but at her. He was sure she wasn’t okay.

 

She must’ve read his thoughts because she said stubbornly, “I can take care of myself. I’m fine, Percy.” Softer, she said. “You can forgive yourself. I do.”

 

There was no possible way to forgive himself for almost killing Annabeth. She shifted closer to him and wrapped her arms around him like a vise.

 

He really needed that hug from her.

 

Annabeth punched his shoulder lightly. “I’m mad at you, you know. You really scared me.”

 

Percy swallowed the lump in his throat. “I’m sorry. I-I’m so sorry, Wise Girl. I—you weren’t you. You were Akhlys, and I didn’t know what to do,” his voice cracked, and he did his best to focus on the waves crashing onto the sand. “If there’s anything you need me to do—stay away from you, hold your hand, anything—I’ll do it.” He wrenched his gaze away from the sea and looked her in the eye. “I just want you safe.”

“There,” she said, smiling. “You said everything I needed to hear, Seaweed Brain. You haven’t called me Wise Girl in weeks. It was pretty worrying.”

 

“I will remedy that immediately,” he said, serious, but he was smiling too.

 

She laughed and kissed his shoulder. “But next time, how about we make it a fair fight.”

 

His stomach dropped just thinking of fighting her again. “Annabeth—”

 

She pushed him with her shoulder and kind of just stayed there, leaning against him. “I’m kidding.”

 

He glared at her mockingly.

 

Annabeth shoved him down so he was lying on his back in the sand. She straddled his lap and sat on his hips. She kissed him soundly on the mouth. “Do I still look like Akhlys?” She joked lightly as she pulled his shirt off.

 

“Oh, my gods, I almost just threw up.”

 

He felt the vibrations of her laugh on his mouth as she kissed him again.

 

Yeah, they would be okay.

 

* * *

 

_I’m well acquainted_

_With the villains in my head_

_They bed me to write them_

_So they’ll never die when I’m dead_

_And all the kids cried out_

_“Please stop you’re scaring me”_

_I can’t help this awful energy_

_Goddamn right, you should be scared of me_

_Who is in control?_

**Author's Note:**

> *It was really hard, but somehow I refrained from making any dam jokes.
> 
> You can thank my sister for this. Caitlin, I know you asked for mostly Percabeth and there was, like, none in this monster. I just kind of. Well, got carried away. Maybe if you buy me food or watch all three Starkid Productions of Harry Potter with me because that is literally all I do all day, I will write something happier and fluffier :)
> 
> Also thanks to JLArmentrout for the Phobos and Deimos idea. And for a lot of other things.
> 
> This is to remain a oneshot, though I may be convinced to write a happily-ever-after-and-more-percabeth-and-babies-and-weddings-not-necessarily-in-that-order addition. MAYBE.


End file.
